Noise Complaint
by transatlantic-tea
Summary: Karaoke at 2am?


'Fucking Hell', Arthur mumbled, rolling over in his now entirely unmade bed, forcing his face further into the mound of pillows in a futile attempt to muffle the sound from the flat across the corridor. A wide range of colourful exclamatives began to tumble out of his mouth in an unintelligible, slurred string as he kicked his legs over the side of the metal-framed bed in which he slept. Throwing the thin, green covers half-way across the room in his anger, he rose from the lumpy mattress and proceeded to bang his head into the flimsy wall separating him from his neighbour until the dull thudding drowned out the relentless, off-key wailing from the flat opposite.

'Bloody fucking cheap flat. Neighbours don't even know how to let other people sleep. Karaoke at 2am? What kind of fucking idiot even sings karaoke in the first place? Does that mean that they own a karaoke machine? Probably, bloody Americans. Just typical, isn't it? Every bloody thing in this country, every thing..' the complaints continued at the same pace as he stumbled around his small, mould-and-mothball-scented wreck of a home, damning the invention of karaoke and the existence of such a saccharine-sweet, overly pompous country.

'Bloody Americans', he continued, pausing only momentarily in his complaints, to consider the possibility of stopping in his endeavours to make a cup of tea. Deciding against it, instead choosing to take immediate action against this crass, noise-law-disregarding excuse for a neighbour. 'They're all the same over here. Oblivious bastards'.

Skulking over to stand in front of the living-room mirror, he contemplated the way in which to best demonstrate his anger, and whether he should make himself half-way presentable to do so. 'Bloody loud neighbour', the singing continued, 'Probably a slob himself. No need to dress up to cross the hallway. Though maybe I should put on a jumper. Would a shirt be too formal? Ugh, of course it would - don't want him to get the wrong impression.' Arthur began to make his way back to his bedroom, deciding to choose something from his, admittedly small, collection of clothing to make him look as much like the law-abiding, model citizen that he was.

When he entered the bedroom, he came in with the idea of a quick change of clothes, maybe an attempt at brushing his tangled mop of a head of hair, but, sure enough, as he sat in a pool of crumpled shirts and t-shirts and jumpers and cardigans and jeans and chinos and capris and every possible item of clothing imaginable, still dressed in the same pair of boxers and plain, white t-shirt, he gave an exasperated sigh before running his hands through his hair in annoyance. 'This is ridiculous. Absolutely bloody ridiculous. Why should I give a shit about impressing this miserable excuse for a neighbour? I'm probably never even going to see him again.' Sighing, once again, but this time with a new sense of resolve, Arthur stood with purpose, disregarding the now empty wardrobe in front of him and the obscenely large mountain of clothes abandoned on the floor.

He donned his signature 'I don't care about you because you're below me, but please stop being an inconvenience' aloof and annoyed face, and marched towards the door of his cramped flat, mentally preparing the right intellectual words to intimidate his new arch-nemesis and make up for his lack of physical presence.

The door was flung open, hallway crossed, and the door to number 32 thudded upon for what even Arthur could admit was an unnecessary amount of time. The karaoke stopped. And nothing happened. No-one came to the door.

Feeling now that his anger was well-placed, and filled with a new level of hatred, Arthur resumed his previous activities of apparently trying to knock the door down, and resolved that he would now dedicate his own life to making that of whoever lived behind that door's a misery.

He was rapidly becoming so absorbed with getting acknowledgment from the other side of the door that he almost didn't notice it when it came, and stumbled while trying to keep his balance as it opened. Looking up to the face of the man in front of him, expecting some kind of slobbish, disrespectful, selfish hooligan, he was quite surprised to see a slightly dorky-looking, slightly drunk-looking, and, admittedly, very attractive young man. But what really surprised him the most wasn't the glasses, or the clear blue eyes, or the surprisingly muscular looking arms for a person who was, just minutes ago, singing songs from ' The Little Mermaid' - what really took him aback was the apologetic expression on his (again, very attractive) face.

Arthur blinked, his new discovery that this was his 'hooligan next door' leaving him at a loss for words. An awkward silence hung in the air, both participants in the not-quite-conversation looking uncomfortable. The urge to end the silence got too strong for Arthur to ignore, and, now regretting that he hadn't made a plan of what to say, he managed to stutter a sentence, already embarrassed by himself and his incompetence in conversation. 'y-you really shouldn't be so loud this early in the morning', the sentence was fine, he decided, if a little bit obvious - but now that was the least of his worries, as, unfortunately for him, the urge to end the silence seemed to have an effect on both him and the stranger he was talking to, and, looking equally embarrassed, the neighbour also decided to speak at the same time, exept twice as fast out of nerves, which Arthur couldn't help but laugh at, despite himself. 'Uh- I'm real sorry, dude, it's just - well - uh, we were having a party and it just got a lil' outta hand, y'know?'. Another short silence before the stranger spoke again.

'We've all been there, right? Crazy party, loud friends, gettin' out the Disney karaoke. I have a Danish friend, y'know? He really went for it. Apparently 'The Little Mermaid's' pretty big there! I would never have guessed.' The stranger self-conciously rubbed the back of his neck, looking at a loss for words after his panicked babbling. Slightly confused that the conversation had taken this turn, but interested to see where it would go, Arthur decided to respond by remarking on his lack of Danish friends, which seemed to surprise the stranger, who he guessed would be, at this point, worried about a noise complaint and the possible eviction that could go with it.

'I don't have any Danish friends myself, so I wouldn't know, but I do know a Norwegian. He doesn't seem to be too interested in mermaids, though he does like trolls.'

'What, as in the colourful hair things, or, like, bridge trolls with warts?'

'Unfortunately, it's the latter. Though I would like to see what he though about that kind of troll. He probably think it was sacrilege. He never did like children's programmes about mythical creatures. I can see his point, though, especially when there's overpriced merchandise involved.'

'Like My Little Pony. Apparently they're hella expensive! My brother was buying one for his friend's daughter, and he said that you could get, like ten packs of Reeses Peanut Buttercups for one of those ponies. And it wasn't even one with a horn! They'd be more expensive, wouldn't they? I'd say so. Cause you're paying for the plastic, but you're also paying for the experience, y'know? Like, if your ponies are stuck in some kinda, like, emergency situation, and they can only get out with unicorn magic, it's worth getting the unicorn to help the team! Like having a good linebacker.'

'I suppose so. Though I've never thought about the pros and cons of buying a unicorn pony in such detail. If I wanted the unicorn, I'd just get it, even if it wouldn't help the team.'

'Ah - but here's the difficult bit, would you rather have one normal pony and an accessory pack, or just a unicorn? Does the extra stuff outweigh the unicorn?'

'I'd much rather have the unicorn, they're so much better than the normal ponies. Most My Little Pony characters are so boring! I don't even know why Rainbow Dash is the main character! And Lickety Split is just annoying.'

'...' the stranger raised an eyebrow.

'What?'

'You know them by name?'

'What?'

'The ponies. You know the characters by name?' He was clearly trying to stifle laughter.

'No! I don't - I just remember! I remember from when I was little! I'm not one of those weird people you see on the internet! I - Stop laughing at me! It's not funny. Stop laughing! If you don't stop laughing, I'm going to leave.' the laughter quietened, but did not cease. Arthur was annoyed again. 'Fine. If you're just going to laugh at me then I'll leave you to your Disney karaoke. And for the record, I don't think that's any less funny than me knowing a little bit about My Little Pony. I came to tell you to shut up, and I think I've got my message across. If you make any more sound from now on, I'm filing a noise complaint.' Arthur turned to leave, 'stupid bloody yanks. All the same. Arrogant bastards' he thought. He stepped into the corridor, but before he could even breach the two metres it took to get back to the safety of his door, he felt a hand on his wrist.

'Hey, no - wait. Look, I'm sorry I laughed at you. I didn't think you'd be upset. I thought we were just joking around, y'know? I thought we got on well, right? Fun conversation until then.'

Arthur turned around and gave the American his best 'leave me alone or I will skin you' look.

'I'm sorry.' The stranger repeated. Arthur refused to respond. 'Please?' Arthur moved his wrist away. 'Please - I'm sorry - let me make it up to you!' Again, Arthur said nothing. The stranger stepped back. Although Arthur tried to convince himself that he didn't want this stranger's attention, he couldn't hide from himself the fact that he was disappointed that he'd been given up on so easily.

The stranger held out his hand. 'I'm Alfred.', he said 'and I'm all about new beginnings. Fresh start, and all that? Please?'. Arthur looked at the hand being offered to him. He didn't have much in the way of friends. Maybe this would be a good idea? To have more fun in his life. All he really did was eat, sleep and work. Maybe some Disney karaoke now and then would be good?

'Arthur' he said. The stranger's - Alfred's - handshake was good. A solid, firm warmth, with a steady rhythm and strong shake. Somehow, Arthur knew that this would be a good friendship.

Three years later, when Alfred and Arthur moved into their shared flat together, as a couple, they celebrated by having a party, with the very same Disney karaoke machine.


End file.
